


The Morning After

by theonebehindthewords



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post The Sign of Three, SPOILERS FOR SERIES THREE OF SHERLOCK, contains spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 21:52:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonebehindthewords/pseuds/theonebehindthewords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John realizes too late that Sherlock's left his wedding too early.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, this is what happened after the wedding. I suppose we can't all get what we want.
> 
> idea from an anon on the bbcjohn tumblr!
> 
>  
> 
> -this was written very quickly, and I've tried to edit it to the best of my abilities, but it also my be absolute shite. Enjoy!

A year ago, when he thought about his wedding, John couldn’t think of anyone to be his best man. It was sad, pathetic, but very true. He liked Mike Stamford, and Greg Lestrade, and a few of his old mates, but not enough to ask them to do that for him. It brought to face the fact that loomed over John at Sherlock’s death- he was completely invested in one human being, and it left very little room for anything else.

That was, at least, until he met Mary Morstan. The perfect woman for him. She understood him perfectly, got him to start talking about the Army again (without feeling pain in his arm- or in his heart) and would even listen to stories about Sherlock, if he felt like telling them.

As happy couples do, they were set to get married. And then Sherlock came back. And John was happy. Happier than he imagined he could have been, in a very long time.

 

~*~

Time past, cases were solved, dinners were eaten, nights were slept, days were spent awake, hearts started, stopped, and kept going, and then it was the day of The Wedding.

 

It was brilliant and everything that they (Mary) wanted, with the cake and the decorations and the colours and the people. And it was everything else they (John) wanted. Murderer caught, friend saved.

There was only one person who did not get everything they wanted. Sherlock Holmes saw the inevitable. He knew what would happen after the marriage (as Mrs.Hudson so helpfully pointed out). John would have a kid, live in a nice house, with his nice wife, and continue on with his nice stable job, and trim out the fat. The fat, in this case, was him. He held no illusions that John would stick around forever (despite what the man said), he just hadn’t expected it to hurt this badly.

It was unfortunate, Sherlock mused as he watched the happy couple dance to the sound of his violin, that the one person whom he was able to be irrevocably in love with, was likely one of the only people who he could never be with.

John Watson was the man to put him right, and now he would have to manage to stay right, without the help.

A few minutes later, after he told Mary and John about the child they would be having (accident), he looked around the room for someone to dance with. He decided then, that if he was going to keep himself right, he’d have to put in the effort. However his effort was met only with crushing disappointment. Everyone in the room had a partner they were dancing and laughing with. He was reminded bitterly of his secondary school days, when he was often left just like this, alone at the edge of a dance.

He sniffed and turned around to head to the door, found and pulled on his great black coat. He stepped outside and the sharp spring air hit his face and hands, as he pulled his scarf into a knot around his neck. The music pulsed from inside, giving background to Sherlock’s final thought of the night. ‘Alone is what I have. Alone is what protects me.’ Sherlock desperately wished he could believe himself.

~*~

What Sherlock hadn’t known, of course, was that his absence did not go completely unnoticed. After John had finished dancing the song with Mary, his joints ached and he needed a song or two to relax. He smiled at people he cross on the way to fill his champagne, and looked around for Sherlock. When he didn’t immediately see Sherlock, John assumed he was dancing with the bridesmaid, so he just drank more and mingled with family and friends.

 

Molly Hooper (with her strange boyfriend Tom) came up to him worriedly, and grabbed his hand, “John,” he said, eyebrows furrowed, “Why did Sherlock leave so early? He didn’t have a case, right? Not on your wedding night.”

John’s stomach dropped as he heard the words pass Molly’s lips. “He left?” he asked desperately, looking around the room again, and seeing no trace of his friend. “Why would he leave…?” he looked at Molly, searching for an answer, but Molly could only provide a worried shake of her head, before Tom dragged her away.

‘Sherlock is gone, then?’ Thought John, suddenly unable to focus on the people dancing around him. ‘My best friend left early on my wedding day, without even saying goodbye? Why would anyone do that? Why would anyone...’

 

And then, John remembered. The words Sherlock had said throughout the night. They were not sentimental men, they did not talk about their feelings. But tonight? Sherlock had expressed love and affection that John previously was unsure of. He had said such flattering things about John, that it’d brought tears to his eyes. And how had he repayed him? By leaving him alone, by going off with Mary, even though he was fully aware of how difficult Sherlock found this sort of thing.

‘You wont need me around anymore, now that you have a real baby on the way..’ The words echoed through John’s memory, making the man even more sick to his stomach.

But a groom couldn’t very well leave his own wedding, certainly not his wife, with the news of pregnancy fresh in their minds. So he stayed, and danced, and drank (maybe a little more than necessary) and payed attention to absolutely none of it. He could only think of Sherlock, imagining him alone in his flat, folding napkins or playing his violin or oh god even worse, turning back to drugs.

He thought of this until he was too inebriated to think of anything.

 

~*~

 

And just like that, it was morning.

John woke with a start, from a dream that he wouldn’t remember, and a smashing headache. It pounded on the inside of his skull and threaten to bring up the meager contents of his stomache. He lay there for a moment, trying to open his eyes, when the prior night hit him, and he jumped out of bed.

No matter how sobering that was, he still swayed when he was standing, and almost toppled over. He tried his best to be quiet, so as not to wake Mary, as he pulled on a jumper and some jeans, and ran his fingers through his hair. He has to see Sherlock, and he had to see him, right now. He was leaving to go to a sunny warm place on his Honeymoon (not sex vacation Sherlock) in 12 hours, and he hadn’t even packed yet, but none of that matter.

Not with the knowledge that Sherlock was alone in his flat, with all manor of things to get into, and the mind set that John didn’t care anymore.

He ignored the nagging in the stomach that Mary would be extremely unhappy to wake up along the day after their wedding, and the nagging in his brain that begged for more sleep, and he hailed a cab, hell bound for 221B Baker Street.

~*~

Sherlock heard John coming, and cursed his memory for knowing John’s steps (even hungover) and cursed John for being so… _memorable_. His stomach betrayed him, and twisted into knots as the door was pulled open, and Johns harsh breathing broke the deafening silence of the lonely flat. Sherlock faced the window, sitting slumped in John’s (he refused to call it anything else) chair.

“Sherlock-” John said, walking forward to Sherlock, standing just behind him, suddenly not knowing what to do with his hands. He felt awkward, out of place, and awful, but he had to say something.

“You… left early.” he started lamely.

“You noticed.” Sherlock said flatly, “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to distract you from your night. You really ought to be with Mary right now. Newly wed and all.”

John stared at the back of Sherlock’s head,  searching vainly for an answer in those silly curls. He moved so that he was in front of Sherlock, looking down at him, “You know… I’m not… good at this sort of stuff. I don’t always know what to say..”

Sherlock held back a mocking laugh at the back of his throat, and stared around John, still out the window.

John watched him, and continued, “Mary, she was never a replacement for you..” he laughed humorlessly, “She could never be a replacement for you- no one could. It’s you, it’s always been you, and it always will be. You’re my best friend, Sherlock. And-” He stopped, sighing frustratedly, “Will you please look at me!”

Sherlock moved his gaze to fix John in an empty stare, eyebrows slightly knit despite himself, and nodded smalley as indication for John to continue.

“When you made that vow, that was-” he paused, licking his lips out of habit and nervousness, “important. And I feel that way, too. Hell- you came back from the dead for me. You mean the world to me Sherlock, and I do. I do. I will protect you, and be with you, to the best of my ability, for the rest of my life.” he sighed heavily, closing his eyes, thoughts finally out.

And then, of course, his headache came crashing back, and it was really early, and he’d drunk quite a lot, so he swayed once on his feet, and toppled forward, no longer conscious, onto Sherlock, who caught him with some strain.

Sherlock smiled down sadly at John’s unconscious form, shifting him so that he could sit in his chair. He stood, and leaned down and whispered into John’s sleeping ear, “‘Til death do us part, then, John Watson. I hope that doesn’t come soon.”

And with a final, small kiss on his cheek, Sherlock went into the Kitchen to make some tea.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> (tumblr is watsonsaves (previously johhnwattson) )


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